Rocketman
by atrish1
Summary: Bad kids on campus mess with our boys. Mostly h/c Hutch.


As promised, albeit 2 days late! Anyway- here it is.

(**Yep, I do know these officers don't belong to me- but I can't stop writing them!**)

(yikes- this hasn't been any where near a beta- so sorry in advance for typos & poorly constructed sentences!)

Rocketman

_or _

Ice Ice Baby

"_Hey, get back here! Hey!"_ Getting tangled in the extension cord, "I gotta go," Starsky barked into the phone. "He's…he's…," not finishing he hung up on his captain.

In a giant leap, he pounced toward the door, preventing Hutch's attempt to wander outside.

He turned his drugged-out partner to face him. "Hey, buddy." Although it made no difference that they were face to face. Hutch didn't seem to notice.

He pulled away from Starsky, swaying backwards in an effort to continue the incessant walking and pacing that he'd been caught up in.

"Okay, partner," Starsky told him gently, releasing him. "Okay."

Hutch took several unsteady steps forward and then as if suddenly intrigued by something floating in the air around him, slowly lifted a hand up to touch whatever it was that was garnishing all his attention.

Starsky sighed tiredly. The ER doc had promised to call him with the results of the test. And he hadn't.

Whatever those young punks, the ones that had figured out who the undercover cop on campus investigating their drug operation was, whatever they'd slipped to Hutch, had kept him drugged out of his head. For the last ten hours, Hutch had been unreachable, stranded on some tripped-out journey in Lala Land. The worst part of it, although everything about what the chemicals were doing to Hutch was bad, was that Hutch was so hyped up, he'd been on his feet for the whole ten.

Neither one of them had slept since Tuesday Night. It was now Thursday evening—and it didn't look like either one of them would be getting any sleep any time soon.

"C'mhere," Starsky ordered his friend. Slipping an arm around Hutch and guiding him to sit on the couch. Hutch stayed put, but all the drugged out energy went to rocking back and forth. Starsky knelt in front of him, putting a restricting straight arm on either side of the body in motion to keep it corralled on the couch. He looked up into his friend's face. Lifting a hand to push back some of the disheveled fair hair to get a better look. The sweat dampened blond hair had been tugged and pulled at by Hutch scrubbing fist and fingers at his scalp like it had been crawling with fire ants.

Hutch's face flushed red and his pupils the size of big black marbles, made him look strange and just made Starsky even more scared about his present condition. If only he could make a connection, and maybe that would ease just a tiny bit of his fear about the street drug that had stolen Hutch away from him.

"Well buddy, if you're gonna be stranded on Mars somewhere, you might as well look like one of the natives," Starsky sadly observed. "When you coming back partner?" He said softly, reaching out a hand to rest on his best friend's collar bone.

Hutch's dipping head rose up slightly. Still rocking, he seemed to focus in on the person in front of him.

Starsky gave him an appreciative smile. "Yeah, it's me, babe."

Hutch slowly stretched out long fingers to drape them down Starsky's face.

"_Hey_," the dark-haired man encouraged, expecting the regular response, of _hey yourself _to be given in return. Instead, Hutch's mouth oohed…and then the word … 'Green' came out of it. Followed by a wide-eyed drugged stare.

Disappointed and angry at the world, Starsky abruptly stood up. The movement triggered Hutch to jump to his feet, and he stumbled by Starsky to start another round of awry floor-walking.

"Where's that doctor!" Starsky growled, his eyes locked onto making sure Hutch didn't look like he was headed for injury. He'd already tripped over a small table and an electrical cord, breaking a lamp in his near-fall. There had also been, during one very scary bout of hallucinating, Hutch beating away Starsky's attempts to restrain him like he was a two-headed six foot snake. Hutch had tagged him good. With the ball of his palm-giving him a shiner. But thankfully the vision had passed quickly, and seconds later Hutch was grinning widely like he was having the time of his life, the rays of a beautiful sun warming his face.

**ooo**

Starsky glared at the phone he'd just slammed down. Hutch jumped at the sound of it and that was the only reason Starsky felt sorry for hanging up on the ER doc, who was two hours late, calling him, just to say;

"_Those college kids are geniuses in chemistry. We're not having any success __zoning in on what it is they gave Officer Hutchinson."_

The knocking at the door made both him and Hutch jump. Starsky, heading for the door, stopped to look into the blond man's face, gliding a touch to a reddened cheek, expressing his worry for him. Hutch, still standing, was exhausted. Starsky could see that. His friend's feet were dragging like there were twenty pound sandbags tied to them, barely able to hold his head up, but much too wired to sit still. He was warm, too. "Warm?" he wondered out loud. The thought of Hutch having a fever completely distracting him.

There was another clipped double knock-pause-triple knock, which meant it was Huggy, and Starsky moved quickly. Whipping open the door to see what help Huggy had with him.

A kid, not more than eighteen, pimples and big black glasses, rail thin, smoking the butt of a cigarette, stood half-hidden by Huggy's lanky frame.

Starsky only frowned, shaking his head in disappointment as he let the visitors in. "Huggy_—this your Calvary?"_

"Yeah, Starsky-Twitter, Twitter-Starsky." Huggy rushed through the blatantly informal introduction.

There was a loud crash and they all turned to see Hutch had fallen into a side table knocking over an array of items over onto the floor.

"Aww, buddy." Starsky hurried over to help him get upright and Hutch clawed at him, struggling to stand up.

"No, you're gonna sit, now, You gotta sit, boy." Starsky pleaded, dragging his partner a few feet, to deposit him on onto a couch. Looking up to Huggy and the teenager hovering by his side, he explained, "He's been like this nearly fifteen hours."

"Why didn't you let the hospital keep him?" Huggy asked.

"They wanted to restrain him, Hug."

No further explanation was needed. Huggy knew when it came to Hutch, Starsky was a meticulous caretaker. The sight of Hutch strapped down to a hospital bed wouldn't sit well with him in any circumstance. Such a thing would have to leave some unnecessary negative residue on Hutch's psyche even if he didn't remember it had happened. And Starsky wouldn't ever be able to forget the part he'd played in such a thing.

"Yeah, they're not too creative with stoners," the teen offered.

Starsky shot him a dirty look, and the kid intimidated by hostility, slid behind Huggy's back again.

"Ah, Starsky. Cool it, huh?" Huggy suggested. "This kid, he's hung around those guys that slipped our blond bro a mickey _and_ he's played around with the stuff they use to make their synthetic get highs. Okay?" Thereby laying out Twitter's credentials and the reason why he'd brought him to help them.

Not impressed with the kids' resume, "He's a drug dealer—"Starsky accused.

"No, I only did it for friends, so they wouldn't have to take the junk from the street," the kid clarified, sounding offended by the label of pusher being thrown his way. "I don't sell it, I never did, alright? Anyway, that was when I was younger. That shit's dangerous, man. Don't take a genius to figure that out. These guys that slipped your friend a free ride are bad news. They don't give a crap about anybody, you dig?"

Terse in his reply, Starsky asked plainly, "Do you know what they gave my partner?"

"It ain't so hard to figure out. They've been mixingup this new drug—called Rocketman-it's supposed to be the best high a person can buy. Twenty-four hours of pure flight…no delays, no stopover's, just like those rockets to the moon." He paused to give the affected man a serious gaze, "Looks like that's what he's on."

Everybody's attention went to Ken Hutchinson, who weakly trying to push himself up from the couch.

"Damn." Starsky, cursing the drug, easily blocked his friend's effort.

The kid started talking again, "The problem is – it's too much, man, for the body. It looks like it's just all fun and stuff at first, but… they never got the right mix, the right balance and…"

"Wow, partner, you're hot." Starsky eyeing him carefully, lifted and re-positioned an open hand up and down Hutch's neck and jaw. "Hot…that's not right, is it?"

He cast a fearful look of concern to Huggy who hurried over to palm Hutch's forehead, squinting suspiciously as he tried to measure what he thought was normal for a person.

"Oh man." Twitter's few words heralded in doom.

"Wa-what?" Huggy's urgent voice wobbled.

"This ain't good."

"What!" Huggy and Starsky demanded in unison.

"You better get some ice. Lots of it—ASAP dudes," the scrawny teen insisted.

"_What are we talking here?"_ Starsky, confronting him, stood to his full height to get an answer.

"_ICE!_" the kid shouted. "Bags of it. Right now, before …"

"Before what?" Huggy" also turned to face him.

Twitter swallowed hard, looking back in their faces, "Before…his organs start cooking…"

Without a beat of disbelief, the streetwise bartender, elbowed a stunned Starsky. "Let's get him to the hospital."

"There ain't enough time. Trust me," Twitter told them.

Taking the teen at his word at the dire situation Hutch was in, Starsky carefully guided Hutch's body to rest on his, "What we do – to help him?"

"Some people, their body temperature—it gets way high. You gotta bring it down…right away…or…"

The implication of possible death hung in the air.

Huggy was moving like a sprinter toward the door. "I'll get the ice," he yelled on his way out of it.

"As much as you can!" Twitter shouted at the running man. Turning to Starsky he said, "We should get him in the bathtub. Cold water bath."

Hutch clung to Starsky, muttering, "Hot…hot….hot…"

"I know buddy, we're gonna take care of that right now…kay?" Starsky promised.

With Twitter helping, Starsky slid his partner into the bathtub. He turned the cold water on full blast but, Hutch reacted immediately to the water surrounding him. He tried to get up.

"No, nope," Starsky reprimanded him firmly. "Stay down, Hutch". The harshness in the voice stalled the blond man who peered at him with slight recognition. Groaning his misery to his best friend.

"Hey," Starsky, said.

"H—hey," Hutch chattered back.

"You picked a fine time to come down, buddy."

Hutch, confused, about his discomfort and his present situation, shivered as he watched a strange teenager hauling a big pot, pour the cold water out of if-overthe length of his clothed body.

"_Wha_…" Shocked, he looked at Starsky for some clue as to why his partner was allowing such torture, and shuddered. Bound to do something about the water assault, he grabbed hold of the porcelain and tried to push himself out of the tub.

"Uh-uh, no," Starsky scolded.

What felt like seconds later, another bucket full splashed down on him and Hutch gasped loudly, "Nu-No!"

"Stay right there!" Starsky yelled at him. "_Where's Huggy?_" he asked into the air.

The teen shook his head, and bounded back to the kitchen for a re-fill.

"Ss-tarks," Hutch pled, tugging at Starsky's sleeve, while trying to gain enough momentum to get out.

Starsky moved his body to block the attempt, the quick movement, Hutch's tugging at him and a wet floor- sent him falling on top of his drenched friend—with a splash! "Fine," he muttered, his own clothes quickly becoming saturated with the chilly water, he kept the position that was successfully trapping his partner beneath him.

There was a loud thud, and then another. "Ice," a returning Huggy announced. Tossing three 10 pound bags of it on the bathroom floor.

"Go head," Starsky urged.

"_Y'sure?_" Huggy asked, noting Starsky, sitting in the rapidly filling tub was about to get iced too.

"Do it!"

"Sorry, Hutch," Huggy said sadly, eyeing him before ripping open a bag and lifting it to pour the contents of it into the tub.

Hutch bucked, his arms flying wildly. "OOO-UUT," he shrieked.

The drug apparently taking him under again, had Hutch too disoriented to try and get out, but instinct kicked in and gasping and gulping down air - he sat up straight nearly flipping Starsky out of the bathtub.

Twitter quickly followed the ice shower with a splashing rain of another pot full of water. He took a step back to study the blond cop they were icing down."Better do the other bags," he told Huggy Bear,

"Are you serious?"

"U- huh."

"Look, kid," Starsky said, wet and shivering too,"...you better know what you're talking about. This is my partner, you understand?" He was serious, but there was a catch of of utter worry and fearfulness in his voice that made the teen give him a careful study, too.

"I'm pretty sure. I know two people, when they got like him, never made it to the hospital, okay? They had major organ failure before the ambulance guys could even get their vitals. The coroners said after- their temperature got so high, their organs just got cooked. "

"Yeah?" Starsky, shivering, staring down at the trembling and drenched body under him - his partner, while Huggy- with great determination went to ripping open another ice bag.

"The ER's ain't' seen enough cases of it yet? Or they woulda never let your friend go home, Anyway, as soon as he cools down, I bet he's gonna be alright...but you should take him back to the hospital and let them check him over again."

Starsky eyed him cautiously

Understanding why he was getting the close examination, Twitter shared, "Oh, I'm thinking of going to Med school. Maybe."

"Why—would you knuckleheads take this stuff?" Huggy asked him with a frown, shaking his head in disgust over the fact that anyone would voluntarily do this to themselves.

Twitter, shrugged. "Something to do, we get bored, you know?"

"Ever heard of going to a movie?" Huggy's threw out the comment as he lifted another bag of ice.

Hutch's upper body jerked wildly in response the next ten pounds of frozen tundra raining down on him, and Starsky slid down further into the ice bath, slipping an arm around his partner and pulling him to his chest. "S'alright, buddy," We—re just sharing a bath, huh?" he tried to joke. He tilted his head to look into Hutch's face- noting the decreasing size of the big black pupils he'd been staring into for so many hours.

"S-s-ss-tt—tt," Hutch chattered, unable to finish his name, "C-cc—"

"Yeah, just a little while longer, " Starsky told him, "I promise, part'nr."

The phone rang and Twitter, boldly ran out to the answer it.

"Where—did you find that kid?" Starsky grilled Huggy.

"Ahh, you don't wanna know."

The teen popped back in the bathroom door. "That was some Doctor Ramos, said you hung up on him before. I told him he needed to get his butt over here. He's on his way."

"Y-you told him…what? Hey, that's great kid," A trembling, Starsky,gave him a good job smile.

Hutch's freezing hand slid up to his face and Starsky, took hold of it, "Still seeing two-headed monsters?" Starsky tried but failed at sounding glib.

Shaking his head, " S—ta r - let me up—up…" Hutch begged.

"Sorry I can't do that, buddy."

Blue tinged lips quivered a muttered reply.

"What about hypothermia?" Huggy wondered.

"Hmm, I don't think he'd get that so fast." The lanky kid offered up more his opinion.

"Doc's coming," Starsky reminded them. "H-he won't freeze to death 'fore t-then."

Huggy scrutinized his dark-haired friend, who was starting to look like the cold temperature was making him sick. "Starsky—why don't you crawl out of there, huh? Go get on some dry clothes? He's too weak to get outta there, and me and teen Dr. Kildare here will make sure he don't."

"N-no," Starsky' barely squeaked out. 'I stay with him," pulling his best friend closer.

"Let—me-go-too c-cc—cold." Hutch's whole body was shaking, as he burrowed his face against the chest he rested on.

"Can't," Starsky whispered in his ear.

**ooo**

"Well, he looks okay. Think your partner wants a few more blankets, though," Doctor Ramos joked lightly, closing up his black bag .

"So he'll be okay," Starsky sought clarification for the umpteenth time.

"His pressure's pretty low, but that's expected. Look, ah-why don't I come around before work tomorrow, I'm working the morning shift. I just want to make sure it doesn't go back up too high. Sometimes these drugs have a residual effect on the BP."

The doctor making a house call glanced over at the teen slouched on the couch, open-mouthed and entranced by some evening cartoon. "That's the kid that helped you guys out?"

Starsky shrugged, having his own struggle with believing it, but already forming a plan for retribution, answered, "And he's gonna help find those punks who juiced my partner, he just doesn't know it yet."

"_Rocketman-_- is what they're callin' it you said?"

Starsky concurred with a wide, tired yawn.

"I definitely need to talk to him and get the ER ready for victims that are gonna being showing up at our doorstep."

"If they make it that far," the cop added sadly.

"Yeah, wouldn't hurt to make sure all the ambulance guys got some treatment guidelines, too." Dr. Ramos pointed over to the teenager, "I'm gonna talk to him."

Starsky nodded and walked off—entering the darken bedroom where his partner was resting.

Hutch pale, and washed out, was awake.

'Hey," Starsky said.

'Hey yourself' was the echoed back reply. Starsky grinned at the words he had so badly needed to hear from his partner almost a lifetime ago.

Clearing his throat, "Whassso funny," an exhausted Hutch asked.

"Nuthin." Sitting on the edge of the bed, Starsky winked at him, "Just glad to have my partner back."

Hutch sniffed and shivered, and Starsky quickly moved to get another blanket. He draped it over friend's body and asked, "Hows that, huh?"

"Don't think I'll ever be warm again," Hutch shared.

"Me either."

Hutch nodded his understanding and appreciation all in one. His eyes softening to exam his best friend, "Rough day, for you."

"For both of us, buddy."

"How long?" Hutch asked.

"That you were stoned outta your head? Seeing two-headed monsters, and scaring the crap outta me?"

Hutch blushed.

Starsky dropped back down to sit on the bed, leaning over, he gently slipped a hand onto Hutch's shoulder. And then brought it back up to finger down some wayward, drying blond strands. All of the touching was an effort to create the intimacy he needed to offer his apology, "Hutch, ahh…I shoulda never signed you outta the hospital. I don't know what I was thinkin.'"

"Ah, come on, buddy-You were thinking about how mad I was gonna be if I woke up and found myself hog-tied to some bed on wheels. You don't think I know that?" Hutch lowered his head, trying to peer into his best's friends face.

Starsky did look up and Hutch quickly taking advantage of the raised gaze on him, adding, "So don't go blaming yourself for knowing me so good, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess." Starsky thoughtfully considered his partner's logic but quickly changing his mind that he was free from fault, he said, "Hutch, it wasn't me that saved you. It was Huggy and that kid he brought in here."

"_Nah_, _it was you, buddy_. You were the one who chose to listen to him and it wasn't them freezin' their butts off in that tub with me."

"Right."

"One thing though, Starsk."

"Whass that?"

"I don't wanta ever share a bath with you again." Hutch winked now, grinning appreciatively.

Starksy chuckled, "Hey, that's was no picnic for me either, boy."

"Can't believe you were sitting on me like that."

"You member that?" Starsky asked with surprise that Hutch sounded like he wasn't just relaying what he had been told about the scary incident.

"Yeah, I remember." Hutch's eyes were twinkling, not glassy like they had been for the last 24 hours.

"Well," Starsky offered playfully. "It worked- didn't it?"

They both laughed a little bit.

Then getting serious again, Starsky asked, "You remember any of the stuff you did when you were high?"

"No. Not really."

There was quiet and Hutch broke it by confessing, "I don't like it—being high."

"I know you don't." Starsky sighed. Both of them taking another moment of silence to acknowledge the other time Hutch had drugs forced on him.

The man under the pile of blanket's gaze darkened and he reflected, "I remember when it started to happen, they musta put it in my coffee, this girl asked me to help her move…carry some boxes…"

Sensing Starsky's impulse to jump at the chance of finding the perpetrators, Hutch quickly offered. "_No, partner_— _I don't remember what she looked like_."

Starsky frowned.

"Anyway, buddy, the minute I felt it inside me. I was pissed, you know?" His eyes glistened and he looked down to hide the intense emotion he was feeling. "I don't like that feeling, Starsk. It's like…like having to let go of everything I know. Everything- that I believe in, everything I hold on to…it's scary."

Starsky hadn't even noticed that Hutch had slid an arm from underneath the pile of blankets smothering him.

He only felt his friend's grip on his hand and knew exactly what Hutch was afraid of being separated from.

From the thing that cemented their souls together. And kept each of them facing the terrible tide that often moved to take them under.

Starsky could only bow his head. It was too hard to face some things on your own. And anytime there was a breach in their bond it was much too difficult to shrug it off like it was just a regular old hard day at work. It was serious business. And Starsky hadn't yet let himself really deal with being on the other side of a great divide for the past twenty four. Hutch physically present- but virtually unreachable for all those hours.

He took a deep steadying breath, letting it out slow. Too tired to consider contemplating the horror of it, when all his energy had been exhausted trying to save his friend's life.

"You know, there's this kid named Twitter, sitting in your living room watching 'toons on the TV," he said.

"He's the kid that saved me?" Hutch asked tentatively, he wasn't ready to move back to normal talk just yet.

"He's a real geek," Starsky explained, looking at his friend and giving him a big enough smile to show he just wanted to enjoy the aftermath of how things had turned out. Hutch was alive, and there was a genius, horn-rimmed glasses wearing, bad-haircuted, scrawny, under twenty years of age rescuer in their living room waiting to meet him.

Hutch sighed, and then nodded he understood, Starsky didn't want to dig too deep for his pain this time around. "A real geek. For real?" Hutch asked.

"The genuine article. Huggy dug him up from somewhere. Wanna meet him?"

"Sure," Hutch agreed. But when Starsky stood to go, Hutch held on to him, purposefully studying their clasped hands. And Starsky waited. Letting his best friend figure out if he let go, that same hand would be there the next time, and the next, and for always and forever.

Starsky looking away, did start to get overwhelmed and Hutch, having gained the strength he needed from holding on, apologized, "Sorry."

Starsky just shook his head, surprised at the quaking emotion so close to the surface, took another deep settling breath. "Sokay—I'm..."

"Gonna get the geek," Hutch reminded him.

"Yeah." Starsky sniffed.

(**end)**


End file.
